


Aftercare for Catharsis

by staymonkey



Category: New Teen Titans, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Description of piercing process, Emotional Intimacy, Emotional Support Mercenary, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Reference to Scars and Vigilantism, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Uncharacteristically Sweets & Supportive Slade Wilson, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymonkey/pseuds/staymonkey
Summary: Dick gets his nipples pierced.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper (Referenced), Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 169





	Aftercare for Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pro-nipple piercing PSA.

Slade owed Dick a favor.

Slade hated owing Dick favors. 

“I hate this,” he assured Dick, voice hushed so as to not travel over the muted wailing of folk-punk music. Slade’s physical enhancements meant that he rarely felt his age, but, from where he perched next to Dick on a faux leather, armless loveseat with the sting of antiseptic searing his nose in a body modification shop, Slade felt _very_ old. 

“I know,” Dick murmured without looking up from his magazine. His tightly crossed legs and rigid posture betrayed his anxiety. “But this isn't for you, anyway.”

"Wouldn't you rather Harper? I'd still give you my credit card." Slade said. Dick noticeably tensed. An impressive feat, given he was already strung up tighter than one of Harper's bows. 

"Yes," Dick said curtly. "But Roy's out of town, with Dinah. Something to do with White Canary or Lady Shiva. Maybe both. I don't keep up with Dinah." 

"You said something you regret," Slade mused, "and he's mad at you." 

Dick grunted. Which was as much affirmation as the situation demanded. 

"You've always had a mouth on you, kid," Slade said, leaning back. "You should probably apologize." 

Dick uncrossed his legs, only to recross them immediately afterward. 

“My favors are few and far between,” Slade added when it became apparent that Dick wouldn't humor his goading. “You sure you don’t have a nobler use for one?”

Dick flipped a page. “They’re not good for interrupting contracts, I tried that last time. Besides, what’s nobler than holding my hand?” He smirked at Slade. Slade scowled. 

“It’s self-mutilation,” Slade said. 

“It’s self- _expression_ ,” Dick corrected. He flipped another page. Slade didn’t believe he was reading a word of that magazine. “It’s cathartic and ancestral and—“ 

“We’re ready for you,” a perky, petite woman with a purple undercut, a floor-length cardigan, and no fewer than four lip rings chirped from around the corner. Dick flinched. 

“It’s not too late,” Slade said. “I won’t mention it again if you decide you don’t want to do this.You can even keep the favor.” 

Dick set aside the magazine and stood, brushing at his jeans even though there was nothing to brush away. He patted Slade’s bicep. 

“Nope, I want it,” Dick said. “Come back with me.”

Slade huffed but stood and followed Dick and the piercer around the corner and behind a black curtain.

If the piercer found a markedly older man’s presence odd, she didn’t say anything as Slade settled in a fold-up chair clearly set aside for customer guests. She patted what looked to be a reclining examination chair, and Dick settled in it while she washed her hands and snapped on a pair of black, disposable gloves. Slade glanced over at the wall to blink away unwelcome flashbacks prompted by the pseudo-medical environment. 

“Alright!” The piercer announced, plucking up a black felt tip marker. “We’re going to start by marking up where you want the jewelry so that you can see and make any adjustments. Do you have a particular placement in mind?” 

Dick nodded and licked his lips nervously. “Yeah, uh. I know they’re usually horizontal, but I was thinking more of a diagonal angle?”

”Sure!” She chirped. “You won’t be able to wear rings if you do that, but as long as you’re okay with that, we can go ahead and check it out in the mirror.” 

Dick nodded. “That’s fine,” he said. “Should I, uh?” He gestured to his shirt. Slade never knew Dick to be self-conscious, but he also rarely spent time with Dick around civilians. The piercer smiled sympathetically and gave a nod, and so Dick sat up and tugged off his v-neck. He bunched the shirt in his hand, his knuckles white. Slade noted that the piercer, a true professional, was quick to blink away her wide eyes at Dick’s remarkable musculature and his even more remarkable smattering of white scars, brown burns, and mottled skin. 

“Do you want me to hold onto the shirt?” Slade asked if only to distract Dick, whose flushed skin and flickering eyes were contagious and unnerving. He’d seen Dick leap off high rises at air-thinning altitudes with more confidence than Dick sat in that chair. 

“No, I’ve got it,” Dick said, fingers tightening around the bunched fabric. Slade hummed and the piercer positioned the marker to the side of Dick’s left nipple. 

”Like this?” She asked. 

Dick murmured his consent and she dotted the skin where the jewelry would enter and exit, doing the same to Dick’s right nipple.

Afterward, she led him to a floor-length mirror on the far wall. He chewed his lip. 

“Let me know if it’s not even,” the piercer said. “No one is really symmetrical, and the jewelry’s slant will look different as you heal. Your jewelry may also look different when your nipples are hard from when they're relaxed. All of this is totally normal, but it’s important that you like and approve of the placement.” 

Dick nodded, tilting his head and turning his torso slightly to compare the little black dots. Slade watched the piercer sharply, lest she reacted to any of Dick’s more condemning scars. Her eyes lingered on a bullet wound scar on Dick’s shoulder, but only briefly. It was a clean scar, Slade would know, he’s the one who placed it. 

“I like this angle,” Dick finally decided. “This is good, I’m ready.” 

“Great!” The pieced chirped. “Go ahead and get settled while I prep. I’ll walk you through it, so nothing’s a surprise.” 

Dick nodded. “Thank you,” he said, resettling back on the chair, a little less tense. At least his grip on his t-shirt was less tense; his shoulders were still hard lines. 

But then he was blinking his big, cool blue eyes at Slade expectantly.

”Looks good, kid,” Slade said. In a testament to the men in Dick’s life, that was enough to settle him and he relaxed into the exam table.

”Are you going to hold my hand?” Dick mused. Slade blinked.

”Only if you want me to,” he said.

Dick nodded. “I do.”

Slade’s obligingly pulled his chair closer after confirming with the piercer that he wasn’t in the way. He didn’t offer his hand, so Dick picked up Slade’s hand up on his own. 

“It’s weird you don’t have calluses,” Dick muttered, prodding at Slade's palm. “It can’t be comfortable given your... hobbies.” Dick glanced at the preoccupied piercer’s back pointedly, as if Slade needed the reminder. 

“I wear gloves,” Slade said. “A little bit of pain is good for focus.” 

“You’re stronger than I am,” the piercer said, returning to their sides with a metal rolling tray table. The tray boasted antiseptic, the jewelry Dick chose, needles, gloves, paper towels, cotton, and small forceps. Slade grimaced whole Dick pointedly looked anywhere but at the paraphernalia. “I appreciate the calluses I got from my tattoo machine. I think they make it easier to hold.”

Slade grunted and so Dick smiled charmingly enough for two. 

"I can imagine," he says, practically swallowing his tongue when he caught another glance at the needle. "Uh." 

She smiled again. "I'm going to go ahead and clean up the area, okay?" 

He nodded, and she sanitized Dick's left nipple. Slade watched, more curiously than anything, while Dick idly traced the veins on the back of Slade's hand. After the antiseptic, the piercer warned Dick of a pinch before applying the forceps. To Dick's credit, he didn't flinch. 

"Last call, kid," Slade warned, as the piercer picked up the hollow needle. Dick shot him a withering glare. 

"If it's any consolation," the piercer said. "It never hurts as much as people think." 

"He's got better pain tolerance than a SEAL, he's fine," Slade mused. Dick huffed. 

"It's a psychological thing," Dick muttered. Slade blinked. 

"I cannot begin to understand," Slade said, "why this poses a problem for you." 

"You don't have to," Dick shot back. 

Slade couldn't argue with that. 

The piercer politely reinserted herself and, with Dick's permission, counted to three before pulling the hollow needle through on Dick's exhale. In another moment, she strung the barbell through too, and Dick relaxed. 

"Oh," he said. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." 

"Never is!" the piercer said. Slade wisely held his tongue. 

The piercer repeated the process for the next nipple, except when she pushed the needle through this time Dick screwed up his face with a pitchy grunt. 

"Ow," Dick whined as she pulled the jewelry through. "That was worse. That was way worse. Why was that worse?" 

Slade quirked his eyebrows and the piercer shrugged. 

"The second one is always worse," she said. "No one expects the second one to hurt after the first." Dick scowled and she cleaned up his inflamed nipples before packing away her station. 

"Would you like me to text a picture to Harper?" Slade asked, holding up a flip phone. Dick groaned and buried his face in his crumpled t-shirt while the piercer pretended she couldn't hear or see them. "I'm sure Harper would appreciate a picture." 

"I told you to get rid of that cellphone," Dick muttered into his shirt. "Do not text Roy from that phone. That's your ne'er-do-well phone. I thought you'd gotten rid of it the last time Roy confronted you." 

"It's a $10 Nokia. I have a few." 

Dick grunted and put his shirt on. "God, you suck," he muttered, hissing as the cloth brushed against his swollen skin. The piercer returned to his side, with a tiny, plastic handle bag. 

"Aftercare instructions," she said. Slade cocked his head and reached for the bag. The piercer hesitated, but Dick told her he could take it. When she gave it to Slade, he sifted through the contents, finding a bag of sea salt, a business card with the jewelry information, and a pamphlet of instructions. 

"How will they take to heal?" Slade asked as he pulled out the instructions. "A week?" 

The piercer's eyes boggled. "Uh, no. Nine to twelve months."

"A year?" Slade said, dropping the instructions back into the bag. "That can't be right." He looked at Dick, bewildered. Dick hid his snort behind his hand. "How long before he can touch them?"

Dick swatted Slade's arm, but Slade ignored him. 

"You and... any partners shouldn't, under any circumstances, touch them until they're healed," the piercer addressed Dick. "Not to turn them, not to clean them. Use a spray or a soak for that. If the jewelry needs to be changed, it should be done by a professional." 

Slade looked so stricken that Dick actually laughed. "You'll live," Dick promised. Slade straightened his back and scowled. 

Once again, the piercer politely pretended that she couldn't hear or see their strange arrangement as she led them back to the main lobby. At the register, per his agreement with Dick, Slade procured his debit card for the piercer to run. While there, he purchased a few more aftercare accouterments as well as spare jewelry, to Dick's protests. 

"Slade," Dick warned. Slade waved him away. 

"I promised you a favor," Slade said. "I'm just making it worth your while."

Dick placed a hand on Slade's shoulder and smiled beatifically up at him. "If you're worried about fleshing out my favor, it's not too late to get you a Prince Albert."

Slade choked. 


End file.
